God Save the Avatar
by Duke of Skibbington
Summary: A 1900s themed AU set in our world but with bending.
1. London Slums

One thousand, nine hundred and fourteen years after the birth of Avatar Wan, the world was controlled by the major powers of Europe. Many a time did the powers squabble amongst each other and with lesser nations but were kept in line by the British Empire - an empire that covered a quarter of the globe, owning land on every continent. By the early 1900s, the power of the Empire began to falter and old grudges resurfaced. Out of fear, people signed treaties and began to despise non-signatories. Everything boiled over when an Austrian prince was assassinated by a Serbian patriot. The whole of Europe was engulfed in conflict except for the glorious Empire. However, as all hopes of a diplomatic resolution have faded, it is doubtable that they will hold out for much longer.

* * *

 **God Save the Avatar**

* * *

Men in white tie suits stood in a large palace. Although they attempted to portray a calm and easy attitude, it was clear they were extremely nervous. A woman in a blue dress walked to a group of people. They turned and bowed to her, "Good day, Avatar," they said very formally.

"Must we really go to war?" The Avatar pressured them.

Prime Minister Raiko placed his drink on the table, "Look, Avatar, you and I both know that we have tried everything. The German representatives have still refused to leave Belgian territory."

The Avatar was upset, "Do we still need to go to war over this?"

"We gave Belgium our word, we can't be seen to go back on a promise, it's just not the right thing to do."

"It's not the right thing to send our men and women to die over this... this piece of paper."

Raiko got annoyed, "Listen here, Avatar. You were born into your position, I was elected by the people. You're just a figure head, I control the power."

Korra got up into his face, "Look here, buddy, you govern on my behalf and with my permission. Don't make me dissolve parliament."

An older, bald man with blue tattoos broke them up. "Believe me Avatar, I'm as against war as you are, but we are just out of options. If we don't stop them now, where do we draw the line? Paris? Brest? Dover? London? Glasgow?"

"I guess you're right, Tenzin, as always," Korra's face dropped, "Raiko, bring me the declaration and I'll sign it. I just hope history will smile upon us."

::

A foul scent wafted through the grey sky. It was a scent with which Mako and Bolin were all too familiar. It was the fæcal scent of the London slums. Mako, a tall and thin man wearing a battered coat and torn gloves rushed into a small brick hut. He unfolded his newspaper, grabbing his younger brother's attention. While Mako was a skinny chap, his brother was noticeably shorter and stockier.

"Look at this, Bolin," Mako said excitedly and he turned the page of the paper and threw it at his brother.

Bolin picked it up and frowned as he read the headline, "Prime Minister Raiko declares war." He skimmed over the article, "Assassination of Omashu Prince plunges Europe into war... blah blah blah... Germany invades Belgium... blah blah blah... we are at war... blah blah blah... God save the Avatar. "

"Look at the ads column," Mako instructed.

"Join the Avatar's army... 1 shilling and tuppence a day..." Bolin shouted, "1 shilling and tuppence a day? Mako, we should join up! We have not seen that much money since mum and dad died of Cholera when we were little."

"And they're going to feed us!" Mako was normally very cautious, but he and his brother needed to survive. And what better way than bringing glory to the Empire? "20 ounces of bread, 3 ounces of cheese, 5/8 ounces of tea, 8 ounces of vegetables and half a gill of rum. Bolin! Lets head down to the recruitment office. This might get us out of the slums."

Bolin rolled down his sleeves and threw a worn waistcoat over his collar-less shirt and wore a coat on top. Living in the slums had a great impact on him and now his trousers could only be supported by a pair of braces.

The brothers rushed to the recruitment offices and joined the long queue. "Hey," said the man in front of them, "I'm Hasook. Pleased to meet you."

The brothers shook his hand and introduced themselves.

"Funny we've never met," Hasook said.

"It's a big city," Mako said, "hey, where did you go to school?"

The three men roared with laughter, "I wish," Bolin finally said.

By the time they had finished, they reached the front.

"Name?" a stern man with a moustache requested.

"Mako," he replied.

"Age?"

"20, sir."

"Good, good. You look fit and healthy." He stamped a label on Mako's recruitment papers.

The three boys compared notes. Mako spoke "Looks like we're both in the 8th Army... 26th battalion, I think."

The recruiting officer approached them. "Good luck, boys. If there is one thing I learnt during the Boer Wars, it's that there is no greater glory than dying for the Avatar. Now, Mako and Bolin, I couldn't help but notice a resemblance, was your father San?"

Mako nodded, "Yes, he died of Cholera not long ago."

The man's face softened, "I'm sorry to hear. San and I were best friends during the Boer War. He was the bravest man I knew. Well, good day. God save the Avatar."

"God save the Avatar!" The three men cheered in response.


	2. Training

As always, the sky was a depressing grey. The clouds tipped open and unleashed their dreadful payloads. Lines of men in khaki tunics and tin helmets marched, led by a man with a khaki jacket and mustard tie. They trudged through the mud and winced as the cool sludge entered their boots. Their older leader seemed perfectly at ease in such conditions. Drill sergeant Bumi was an old, tough man. He was clean shaven and wore a slightly goofy smile, bearing a thin veil of seriousness. The men slowed as they climbed up hill.  
Bumi turned around and yelled, "Hurry up. Yes, I know, there is mud in your boots. There is mud in mine, too! You will learn to get used to it, just as I did in the Boer War, when I was a young man."  
Bolin looked at Mako, who was adjacent to him, "What's this Boer War? It seems to have been very important."  
Mako shrugged, "I don't know. But it seems dad was in it. I wonder why he never told us about it. It must have been bad."  
"Oh it was bad," a foreign accent interrupted their dialogue from Mako's flank.  
Bolin looked at him, "Who are you?"  
Mako nudged him square in the ribs.  
Bolin rubbed his chest, "Ouch."  
"Nah, she'll be right," the foreigner said, "What's your names?"

Mako answered on his brother's behalf, "I'm Mako and that is Bolin, my brother."

The foreigner nodded, "Ah, I see. Call me Kai, because, well, that's my name, I guess."

"So you were saying about the Boer War?" Bolin almost tripped as he kicked a rock.

"It was a horrible war, that's all I was told. Dad answered the call and took one for the Empire."

Bolin frowned sympathetically, "You must be proud."

Kai smiled, "Yeah, I am. He lived as a great man and died as a great man."

Mako pulled his foot from the mud, "Forgive me for saying this, but you have an unusual accent. Where are you from? If you don't mind…"

"Nah mate, it's fine," Kai waved his hand, "I'm from Australia. Came here to fight for Avatar and country."

Bumi stopped and turned around when they reached the target range. He checked to make sure nobody had fallen behind. He inspected all the men as they stood in formation. He handed each one of them a wooden-butted rifle with a strap. "Right," he announced in a large shout, "this is the Short Magazine Lee-Enfield Mark III" he explained, "a standard British weapon."

Bumi pulled back the bolt of the rifle and slotted in ten bullets. He closed the magazine and aimed towards a target. He fired. The loud crack was ear shattering, but was something the new recruits would have to learn to deal with. He repeatedly fired ten times at a target 500 yards away. In 30 seconds, he was able to unload all of his bullets, plus a few extra magazines. It was hard to tell the exact number, but Bolin was convinced this was the machinegun he heard rumours about.

On Bumi's command, the soldiers grabbed their rifles from their backs and lay down, resting their barrels on a line of sandbags. Bumi looked at his pocket watch. "I'll be timing you, if you don't get at least 15 aimed shots in one minute, you aren't doing any fighting. We can't have the riff raff in the army. The British Army is the only one in Europe that is full of trained professionals, not untrained conscripts. Tiny Belgium may have a bigger army than us, but ours is better than the German and French Armies combined twice over.

The men fired and reloaded as many times as possible, getting faster as they progressed. Mako did extraordinarily well, pumping out the most accurate shots in the shortest amount of time. On command, they jumped to their feet, fixed knives to their barrels and charged down the range. They shredded their target scarecrows to pieces.

"Right," Bumi commanded once more "at ease! You're all being transported to Duke Skibbington's position!"


End file.
